Denny and I would yell "Whoopee!"
Every time we made it in the little Morris Minor pickup to our
destination.
That's how the pickup got name "The Whoopee". The Morris Minor
little 40 horse power motor was hard pressed to haul Denny and I.
Throw a case of beer in the back and the speed limit signs meant
nothing since the Whoopee could not do more then 25mph loaded.
There were times in downtown Seattle when we were forced to
stop on a steep hill because of a red light. I would have to get out.
Why? Because the clutch would spin and burn and the Whoopee would slip
backwards if Denny tried to start up the hill again.
I would run up to the intersection and when the light turned
green run across the street and wait until I saw the Whoopee coming
over the hill.
As Denny came across the intersection, I would run
towards him put my hands on the rail of the pickup bed and throw my
body in the back of the truck.
Do you know what's real scary? One day we were going up along
sloping hill on an old two-lane highway and a semi truck and trailer
pulled out from behind us to pass. All the wheels on the truck and
trailer were taller then the Whoopee.
Two feet away from the Whoopee's door were big roaring tires,
Dennis knuckles turned white from clutching the steering wheel. It
seem to take forever for the semi to get pass us.
We were sure hoping
the driver of the semi could see us in his mirrors. At last the semi
truck got past us and pulled in without hitting us we both yelled at
the same time "Whoopee!"
After fact…………..Today the Whoopee sits in Denny's back yard.
